Warriors of God by James Reston, Jr.

No, this is not about modern politics, though perhaps it is, indirectly. This is a book about King Richard the Lionheart and Saladin and their role in the Third Crusade. I grabbed it on impulse at the library, and was pleasantly surprised by its quality.

The book starts off with the early, pre-crusade careers of both leaders, highlighting parts of their lives that shadow their later exploits. This is the only part of the book that drags a bit--it's hard to do the whole "Adam begat Abel, and Abel began Pepcid AC and Pepsid begat Relief" thing in a compelling manner.

Once we get get going, however, this is a very engaging read, as Reston describes the battles that destroyed the fragile Kingdom of Jerusalem. My prior knowledge of this part of wold history is frighteningly small, but I wasn't shocked to learn at all that petty bickering combined with inept leadership left the Christians ripe for the picking once the Muslims had a good leader, and Saladin was most definitely that man. While the Christians allowed political wrangling and appeals to pride to rule them, leading to the terrible King Guy and the pirate Reginald (apparently, "Though Shalt Not Steal" does not apply to unbelievers, though that seems to be missing from my copy of the text...) and some really stupid ideas (such as attacking a well-fortified area with no supply line and no water--guess how that ended up!), Saladin bided his time, let patience rule him as much as possible, and slowly but surely pushed the Christians out of the Holy Land.

But make no mistake, Saladin wasn't perfect. Throughout the text, he has many crises of faith--being the standard bearer for a whole religion is taxing, and on the Christian side, the lack of unity almost helped keep the pressure off Richard a bit. He also had a hard time keeping the unity he worked so hard to set up in the Muslim world. Still, he was an amazing General, as the text reveals, and his behaviour towards his enemies and the few Jews in the Holy Land make the Christians look like barbarians. (While Saladin invited the Jews back to Jerusalem, the Christians were having bonfires with their Jews, not to mention that during the first Crusade, Jews were the first to be slaughtered when they reached the walls. Frankly speaking, no pun intended, but the Christians come off rather badly in this whole affair.)

Once things are rolled up in the Holy Land, we turn back to Europe to see what Richard is up to. Seems he and his father didn't get along too well, and the legend of Richard as a strong fighter came mostly from fighting with his dad, and not just in terms of verbal banter, either, though apparently Richard was quite the wit, as Reston reveals in judiciously used quotes. He was also, which I appear to be the only person on earth who didn't know this, a homosexual until he had to get married for political reasons. Funny, that never comes up in Robin Hood, and I wonder if anyone told Sean Connery. He even had no women at his coronation session, and I hear it was a very gay affair. Ahem. Moving on. Richard's proclivities in his youth lead to trouble, however, because the other person headed off to Crusade with him is King Phillip of France, England's frequent rival and now a spurned lover.

I'm sure you're shocked, this doesn't go well, and Reston shows over and over again how Richard can't help but make himself look better than his old lover, building up a resentment that will lead to Richard being imprisoned after the Crusade is over. Apparently war and the French don't go together very well, because the French cut and run after a bit, leaving Richard, fresh off more conquests en route, to face Saladin alone.

This is the fun part of the book, from a military standpoint. Richard and Saladin were men ahead of their time, and, in the case of Richard, one of them may have been the best at personally leading his men of any General, ever. Reston includes many accounts of Richard single-handedly keeping the Crusaders in the fight when all seemed lost, most notably at the very end, where Richard needs to make landfall with a small army. (The way is blocked, until Richard himself leads the fight to clear up the beach. If I read that in a fiction book, I admit, I'd feel as though the author overreached, but apparently, it's true. Like I said, Richard was amazing.)

The Christians, badly outnumbered, far from home, and still squabbling all the way, manage to beat back Saladin to the point that he is ready to give up on Jerusalem and work to prevent Arthur from becoming another Ceasar. But maybe there's something to that divine intervention thing, because Richard gets cold feet just as he's about to win, pulling back at the right time for Saladin to be able to fight to a draw. This is just what he wants, because once Richard is gone, Saladin knows he can take out the Christians at a time and place of his choosing.

Like a paper cup that's been refilled one too many times, though, once the fight is over, neither party does very well. Saladin returns home, and, very ill, passes away soon after. Richard tries to flee back to England, and ends up captured by his foes and ransomed like a damsel in distress. He spends the rest of his life fighting with his ex-lover and settling disputes by fighting, the only thing he turns out to be good at. His end is far less glorious than anything he ever accomplished on foreign soil.

Reston's text, while long (it clocks in at just under 400 trade paperback pages), is fresh throughout, and his accounts of the battle are quite clear. At times, it's like reading a scrit for a History Channel documentary--he peppers discussion with sarcastic comments that also help keep the text moving. For example, when Richard (comically?) suggested a marriage between the two families, and Saldin's brother balks at being married to less than a Queen, Reston quips, "The players were being difficult." It's things like that which bring this up over the usual history book to something I'd recommend for people who aren't big fans of non-fiction.

This is not to say that the book isn't well-researched. Reston quotes where needed, and takes pains to point out the facts versus the legends, especially in the case of Richard. (I love how he handles Robin Hood, for instance.) He also does a great job of hopping across the world without spreading himself too thin. I was able to get the whole picture, and since this was a "world war" before they called them that, a sense of scope is highly important. All in all, though this is considered a "popular history" (translation--not dry enough!), I'd consider it a model of how to write an engaging and concise history of an event that more people should learn about.

If there's a lesson in this book, it's that every time Christians try to take over the lands that belong to the Muslims, it ends up badly for the Christians, and that Sunnis and Shiites never have gotten along very well. Deal with a moderate leader fairly, and we can all get along. But when you push people too far, they will fight. Apparently, this hasn't gotten through to modern times very well, and we're only going to learn that lesson to our peril. Since this book pre-dates all of today's problems, it would be asking too much of Reston to think he was trying to sound a warning to would-be Crusaders. But I can't help but think after reading this book that any attempt to take the Holy Land is going to end in disaster--even if our new goal isn't the True Cross, but Pure Crude.

I Am America (and so can you!) by Stephen Colbert

We got this out in audio book form, and while the CDs are slightly abridged, I think that's probably the best way to approach this material. It's one thing to imagine Colbert's over the top stylings in your head; hearing the real thing makes it that much better.

"Shouted" by the author, this book is a spot-on parody of Bill O'Reilly's cliff-note for neocons books, just as the show is a blatant take-off of O'Reilly's TV show. Cobert pretends to genuinely espouse policies and opinions that are only slightly more out there than those proclaimed by real conservatives, with a little help from a few friends (Amy Sedaris and Jon Stewart, amongst others) along the way. Short and punchy, the book takes on subjects ranging from child-rearing to the elderly (who he says are hard of hearing so he insults them in low tones and then flatters them with shouted hackneyed compliments) to immigration (in which he brings the elderly back into things by suggesting they all be hired as border patrol, since they are very good at telling kids to get off their lawns).

If you're chuckling at that last line, you'll laugh out loud as you listen to Colbert try so very hard to pretend he actually believes the things coming out of his mouth. This is parody at its best--just sincere enough to make you think maybe it's real commentary. Or maybe I've just spent too much time on the conservative side of things and it's hard to tell their reality from Colbert's fiction.

There's so much fun to be had in this one--whether it's Colbert's starting off by his statement that he won't give the book to libraries (and if you borrowed the book, you're a welfare queen) or his stated distrust of books, knowledge, and reading--and the wonderful skewering of internet "fact" that goes along with this diatribe--even those who fall on the right side of the political fence should be laughing right along. If you are a fan of the show--and even if you're not--you really need to check this out. It's better than Al Franken's work and less pretentious than the Daily Show. Enjoy!

Sunday Readings 05-17-2009

A few links to items of interest that I've found over the course of the past few weeks:

The Wall Street Journal calls this a "New Age of Discovery", as people rush around the world trying to find and preserve online items that may be destroyed for whatever reason. I am particularly interested in reading that new version of Medea, and wonder if there's some alternative Homers out there somewhere. I'd also love to read the one from the Crusades, a part of world history I am really starting to get interested in. An interesting look into something I'd, perhaps surprisingly, never given much thought to.

In a similar vein, Bibliodyssey has some examples from the National Library of Serbia of Cyrillic manuscripts.

Steven Burt has some thoughts on the fact that apparently only 8% of Americans are reading poetry. David Blaine says in a reply that all 8% are poets, and that's not hard to believe. When I was on Goodreads, as soon as I started posting poetry reviews, I was asked if I wrote poetry myself. (Truth is I do, but only privately--I haven't tried to publish a poem since 4th grade.) I tend to agree with his point--if there's still an audience, why worry? Also, were the people who could quote Longfellow daily actually reading any *new* poetry? My bet's on no.

And speaking of poetry, the Best American Poetry blog tells me that New Zealand has a "Best of...", too, that only publishes online.

Everything Happens in Chillicothe by Mike Shannon

[It's almost time for the Frontier League season to start again, so what better thing to post than this?]

Subtitled "A Summer in the Frontier League with Max McLeary, the One-Eyed Umpire", this book somewhat haphazardly follows McLeary around some of his Frontier League games in the 2000 season, from opening day through the first level of the playoffs. Shannon was originally just looking for some fun quotes when he met McLeary but the focus soon changed as he realized that not only was McLeary an interesting person beyond the obvious (a one-eyed ump?) but the Frontier League had a lot going on for it if you were a person who liked watching people who have no guarantees play the sport hard.

Soon, they were on the road together, drinking after games, following the two teams Max umpired most regularly (Chillicothe and Richmond), and getting a feel for this baseball league that got nothing from the Major Leagues except the occasional signing or former player coming in as a manger.

This book's high points are reading the periodic game summaries and quotes from things that have either happened to Max or to players in the Frontier League. Max handing his eye to an outraged coach and offering to let him call the game is just one of fun ones. The story of trying to make it as an unaffiliated minor league team is also a very compelling read. One owner-manager slowly cracks as the season progresses while another manager complains of incompetent umpiring at the same time Max and his friends say the league treats the umpires poorly (only 2 take the field each game to save money, for instance, and raises for playoff games are a pittance).

Players come and go throughout the season and injuring yourself is probably fatal to your career. A player who struggles just doesn't get any time to right himself, with so many people jumping at the chance to play ball and when they do play well, their teams suffer because they are signed to a big league's squad instead. (This actually harms one team's chances quite a bit over the course of the book. It's both a happy moment and a sad one--exactly the type of thing Bill James was arguing about when he said baseball's minor league system is unfair to the cities that house them.)

I really enjoyed reading about all of the above, and not just because I've gone to a few Washington Wild Things games, a team that is now in the Frontier League that was not when the book was written. I prefer watching people play hard to watching people get a paycheck and I actually prefer going to see a minor league game nowadays for that reason. Had this book solely been those topics, it would have an unconditional recommendation.

But Shannon, for reasons I don't understand, has to talk for pages at a time about what *he* was doing over the course of the year--a getaway with his wife, his relationship to his father, the need to go to church every day, etc.--and they stop the book cold every time. It's one thing to mention going to the baseball hall of fame and cornering Carlton Fisk about an umpiring accident. It's quite another to relate how you went mountain climbing with your wife in a book about struggling baseball teams and a cyclopsian umpire. The frequent insertions of the author into the text hurt the book in my opinion. Between that and the overt religious references, this book could have been about 50 pages shorter and more cohesive overall with the digressions removed.

Max is a very interesting fellow--he made some mistakes over his life, and a more religious person than I would say he was humbled by the experience of losing an eye and either way has worked hard to overcome that disability. He doesn't get every call right, but we do get inside the minds of the umpires in this book--why they might call a close play a certain way, for instance, or that they really are hurt when people don't think of them as human. I wish Shannon had tried to get inside Max's head a bit more and left some of the religion-based commentary to himself, but I'd still recommend this to any baseball fan as a great read for the off-season, when you need your baseball fix.

The Lady in the Lake by Raymond Chandler

That's not what the cover of the edition I read looked like, but I am a sucker for old editions of classic books, so this is the one I'm going with.

I've mentioned before I'm a mystery-detective fiction fan, so it's not surprise that I've taken to the Chandler I've read and watched like a duck to water. So if this review ends up gushing and glowing, you've been warned.

Another Phillip Marlowe story, this one involves Marlowe being asked to discreetly investigate a rich man's wife and quickly spirals into a complicated plot involving multiple homicides, brushes with police (both honest and otherwise), fast cars and fast action. Before Marlowe knows it, he's up to his neck in a plot so convoluted only a writer in the pre-workshop era could have pulled it off.

And that's just the way Marlowe (and I) like it.

I find writing about mysteries just a bit tricky because I don't want to give away any of the multiple twists and turns Chandler provides the reader as Marlowe gets deeper and deeper into trouble, trying at times to either protect or implement his client in the proceedings. The lies pile up one after the other, as Marlowe feels no need to play straight with anyone he doesn't trust--and sometimes, those he does.

For a modern reader, there's a definite sense of confusion at times, especially towards the end when Chandler must wrap up all his loose ends in a bundle that only ties together neatly if you don't think about it too hard and don't worry about "fair play"--the practice of giving the reader everything he or she needs to solve the crime. I have a fairly high tolerance for twists and turns in a story, but even I have a few moments where I wanted to just ask Chandler to end the story before Charles Lindbergh showed up asking for his baby.

But let's face it, you're not reading a Marlowe story for the plot, just like you're not watching Monk because it challenges the brain. You're here because Marlowe is one hell of a character, and Chandler's no-nonsense, amazingly scripted internal monologue of perpetual description is always there to put a smile on your face.

Some examples, drawn randomly:

"I got my knees under me and stayed on all fours for awhile, like a dog who can't finish his dinner, but hates to leave it."

"The hop was tall and thin and yellow and not young and as cool as a slice of chicken in aspic."

"In a little while it was dark enough and he sang and went away into the invisible depths of sky. I snapped my cigarette into the motionless water a few feet away and climbed back into the car and started back in the direction of Little Fawn Lake."

"My hand went out for it, stiff as an eggshell, almost as brittle."

"A wizened waiter with evil eyes and a face like a gnawed bone put a napkin with a printed peacock on it down on the table in front of me and gave me a Bacardi cocktail."

I think you get the idea.

There are some problems, of course, with the style. Marlowe, while taking his lumps early and often, seems like a super hero at times in his ability to get out of anything--eventually. There's also the problem of women in pulp works, especially of this nature. There's not a good dame in the bunch here and they often fold like water at Marlowe's toughness. I understand this as part of the genre and acknowledge (but not endorse) it, the same as I do when an otherwise good writer throws racial stereotypes at me. If you are particularly sensitive to those types of issues in fiction, you're better off staying away on this one.

Whether or not you're interested in the story depends entirely on how much you like Chandler's writing. If you get hooked into the constant patter of Marlowe and his jaundiced view of humanity--he didn't invent the phrase "I'm only in it for the money" but he might as well have--you'll love this book no matter how implausible the story gets. (I think where Marlowe tries to escape a trap set for him by hanging outside the window of a seedy hotel is probably the best example of this in "Lake.")

If on the other hand, you find the tone annoying--Chandler's writing style is almost always that of conversation without another party getting a chance to interrupt--or think those quotes above are some of the worst writing you've ever seen, then you're not going to like this at all. Chandler is definitely one of those writers you either enjoy or hate.

I of course fall into the former category, finding interesting stylings better reads than the polished work that's been edited to death in a writing workshop. If you're looking for a classic of the 1940s, this is definitely the book for you.

Lost by Ian Phillips

If you are a pet owner of any kind, this book is almost guaranteed to tear at your heart sleeves. I know that every time I see a poster on a telephone pole, saying someone's cat or dog is lost, I feel for them on a level than only a fellow pet owner can understand.

Artist Ian Phillips has collected these posters from all over, just as the book cover states. They range from loving pictures taken of a pet almost certainly never to be seen again or childish drawings like the one shown on the cover to the left.

It's an impressive collection and as an artistic piece this is pretty cool. However, because I am sympathetic to these posters, I found the lack of backing information troubling. Phillips does not appear to care about these animals or owners as anything but artistic subjects to be cataloged and placed between the pages of his work. I say "appear" because I do not know that to be fact. But it's hard not to turn the pages and wonder, "Did they ever get their animal back?"

That's a fact we don't get many answers to, even though there would have been plenty of room to do so. Because of that, it definitely gives the reader a sense that the focus is on the artwork and not the human interest. Which is okay, I guess, but not how I'd have gone about trying a book like this.

If you can detach yourself long enough from the situation to appreciate the project on its surface, "Lost" is an unusual urban found art project that's well worth your time. The pet owner in me just wishes it would have had a little more depth.

Jazz Piano History and Development by Billy Taylor

I love jazz and am working on learning the history behind the music that I play entirely too often for my wife's indie-folk taste.

This book by one of the classic jazz pianists is exactly the type of work I like best, as the perspective of the artists themselves was often different from the writers of the period, particular because a lot of the writers were white while the performers were black.

Taylor sets the stage by talking about the origins of jazz within African America culture, noting correctly that this was often overlooked by the jazz writers of the time. He also speaks extensively of the improvisation of a jazz musician, correctly noting that such performances only come after long practice. As with most other things, in order to break the rules, you have to learn them first.

After establishing the links to African culture--perhaps a bit too forcefully, but that's understandable--it's time to go over the main periods of jazz and how the piano changed over time. There's a large difference between the playing styles of, say, Earl Hiles and Duke Ellington, as opposed to Monk and well, Billy Taylor. Taylor uses quite a bit of musical notation to aid the reader in seeing this, but since I can only barely read music, I could only just barely grasp the significance of the examples.

A person who can read music would probably appreciate the book more as a whole than I did, but don't let that steer you away from the text. Taylor strives to make the book readable for those who are less musically inclined, and I for one am thankful. If you know the music to which he refers--and let's face it, if you're going to read a jazz book, your Ipod has quite a bit of jazz in it--then you'll be fine.

The middle section of the book, where Taylor spent most of his musical life, is by far the best part of the work, spending extensive time on the intricacies of piano work in the pre-bop, bop, cool, and early 1970s period. He tries hard to convince me that cool jazz is good, but I'm afraid that's a hard sell for me.

What I appreciate, however, is the linking between the past and the present. Taylor shows how the pianists of the latter part of the 20th Century are still building on the ideas of the earliest jazz musicians: "Throughout the history of jazz there have been many stylistically different approaches to the same musical material. The key to these stylistic differences has often been the treatment of rythym." Later in the same section on cool jazz, Taylor mentions how Gil Evans used 1930s arrangements for his music. Jazz may progress through time, being influenced by rock (as in the fusion work of Weather Report and others), gospel (Ray Charles), and other forms of music, but it also draws from its roots.

Taylor looks into the future of jazz in the 80s, and I don't think it ended up as he'd hoped. It seems that the Kenny Gs of the world outnumbered the heirs of Hines, Monk, or even Herbie Hancock. (Nothing against Hancock, I just don't think his work is nearly as innovative as the others.) Too often jazz means a bad keyboard synth pad and a sputtering sax. I don't think Taylor would like what he saw if he were still alive. Still, it's interesting to see his thoughts.

Taylor ends every chapter with further reading and listening, making for some great "homework" if you're a jazz fan. If you're looking for a place to start your jazz history work, this book should suit your needs just fine, assuming you can find it. You may need to "bop" into your local library, but it's definitely worth the trip.